some of may and june

may 18

i have two bruises on the same part of each leg. they are separate but the same size. i made coffee it was hot and now it’s cold because i was talking to my dad about tonya harding. 

jar of buttons. cried on the drive back from the yard sale because i met someone from italy, woman and i both born in florence but she got more time. i left when i was eight. there are people in my house i never saw the renovated kitchen but i watched them pick cabinets. green carpet wood floor it was my room.

i am better. 

may 19

august first burlington nico is reading a book. this is where i met another saskia. we had half a mutual friend. orders that are ready: tom, suzie, jeremy.

may 20

cut the stems off the old tulips with pauline whose husband died and whose columbines are planting themselves. says she looks out at the garden from the window upstairs which is why her flowers are in the back instead of the front. neighbor gives me milk and i pet his dog who is soft on top. 

i talk to renee in the grocery store by the dried fruit. she says i am so much older now.

may 21

watering the plants and a middle school class walks by in groups. i can see the building from the kitchen. i used to be able to see the orthodontics building from the window on the other side but they built a house. when they tightened my braces i could look at my driveway. i am still supposed to wear a retainer but i haven’t in four years i have had other things to do. people have been stealing bikes. when chloe lived in the blue house we tied a string between our rooms, across the street, it didn’t work the way we thought it would. she’s done with college, now, and blonde. her mother’s an optometrist. 

may 23

we fixed gracie’s break light. bought a bulb and my ex’s cop father approved it at the station. mailed the ticket to new york. when you drive fast on the highway they give you a prize. baby says our names. 

may 24 

bleeding hair dye on the bed frame.

may 27

the animals keep getting lost and coming home. we took the matcha on a walk when it was raining. tied buttercups around the handle. tea drips on my hand and it is not hot because it is rain.

may 31

driving back to yonkers i wore a bike helmet. felt good, protected. took it off. we sleep on a full mattress on the floor, turned this way. kissing in a new place. 

june 3

washing clothes with my hand. gracie went back after my bed frame. i was trying to wipe something off her face standing by the car but there was nothing i just didn’t want her to go. i see her saturday. man might come at ten tonight to sell me a dresser. baby ate yogurt with her hands. i don’t care about a shelf if it’s in pennsylvania. ellen sends me two poems by two poets. 

june 5

glare on the clock from the window i will move it to the other side. my coffee’s on the table but the table is a box on the floor. cried on the phone with my parents because i built the dresser wrong and the drawer is stuck and i can’t get the filter out of the dishwasher because i can’t see it and i scratched the floor. when i close my eyes there are screws tightening into wood. man in the lobby tells me his retirement money hasn’t come in yet so he asks for a dollar for beer. when g and i were in vermont we pet a sheep. end of may. barista put an extra cookie in the bag. queerness showing up back and forth in burlington. when i said i didn’t care about a shelf if it was in pennsylvania it was because facebook marketplace was showing me things that were far away. 

june 6

woman walking a dog and holding flavored water. fruit. old man sitting on the other bench looking at a tree or the bank. listened to my body got a doughnut. world is less small. cold green tea from the train station because i don’t know the bathroom code. the woman from the dog and the water is putting chairs away. i didn’t think she worked here i thought she was just being nice but then she went into the back room. code is 0605. 

june 7

man smoking joint on electric skateboard. 

reasons why 3 year old needed to get out of bed, 8-10pm: bathroom, need a watch to know the time, feels like morning, bathroom, to sit on couch, not tired, hands are sticky, bathroom, not tired, to go over there, need water, need to sit to on the couch four times for four minutes. 

she said patti smith’s just kids was a bedtime book because the guy on the cover had his eyes closed. 

june 8

had a dream that i left crumbs on matthea’s floor. felt bad, said i would clean it but i don’t think i did. found a lost cat when the police filed a report. they said this always happens. then a mouse died in my ice tray.

talked to a man on the train station bench. he had two guitars and one arm. says people mistake his wolf tattoo for a german shepard but it doesn’t matter because he knows it’s a wolf. his brother died and his son went to vassar, says to do whatever i want. other son does something with boats. the scar on his lip is from a piercing he didn’t want anymore. it’s normal to change your mind. 

june 9

gracie fed an orange to a deer and waved when she was leaving. we find a park in clifton and walk through it chewing gum. she drives me and i transfer. conductors don’t wait for people who don’t want to leave. i don’t like leaving. listening to train stops thinking about a book, “my turn: women’s search for self after the children leave.” bought a toothbrush from penn station drinking applesauce waiting for the shuttle. i forgot to say that i moved the clock.